


Sooner or Later (The Things You Love, You Lose)

by ForeverWhelmed



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Emotional Manipulation, Evil Slade Wilson, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hostage Situations, Loss of Trust, M/M, No Lube, Painful Sex, Protective Dick Grayson, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Slade Wilson is and forever will be a Bastard, So much trauma, Trauma, and we're just getting started
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26768932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverWhelmed/pseuds/ForeverWhelmed
Summary: Midnighter is captured by a mercenary who's been hired to hand him back over to his former employers at Stormwatch. When Nightwing shows up to save him, Deathstroke makes him an offer that neither of them can refuse. And of course, one simple act leads to something much, much worse.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Midnighter (Established), Dick Grayson/Midnighter/Slade Wilson, Past Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson (Implied)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951312
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	Sooner or Later (The Things You Love, You Lose)

**Author's Note:**

> It's Whumptober! I couldn't get enough Sladicknighter, and while I was writing "A Different Sort of Rescue" I thought to myself, hey self, you know what's even better than this? Noncon Sladicknighter! And thus, this series was born. 
> 
> The titles for this series come from Florence and the Machine's song, "You've Got the Love."
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy.

M yanked on the chains pinning his wrists in place, glowering when they didn’t budge.

“Breaking the chains, what a brilliant plan.” A voice came from the darkness. “I’m sure no one’s ever tried that before.”

“Deathstroke.” M narrowed his eyes, tilting his head in an unintimidated greeting. “Nice place.”

“I’m glad you think so. Especially since I built that rig just for you.”

“I’m flattered.” M snarled, pulling on the chains again to test his mobility. There was none. And the meta-disruptor device attached to the top of the rig was stopped him from calling a Door and summoning help. The only upside to this situation was that Deathstroke needed him alive to get paid.

Life was all about positive thinking.

"How much do you think you're worth?" Deathstroke’s question suddenly broke the silence and M was big enough to admit it surprised him. He really hadn’t expected the mercenary to be the chatty but that was fine by him.

"More than that pathetic contract you took on me, you're getting robbed. You know how much the supercomputer alone's worth?"

"I'm not talking about money."

Deathstroke’s voice was the purr of a dangerous predator as he moved closer. M wished that his legs were free so he could kick the bastard in the stomach.

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Do you have any idea how much you’re worth to him?”

“To Stormwatch?” Midnighter scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I do know.”

Midnighter couldn’t see under Deathstroke’s mask, but everything in his posture screamed in smug satisfaction.

“You don’t know anything. You have no idea what you have, how far he would go, what he would do to get you back.”

“I knew you were a creep, Wilson, but nobody ever told me you were delusional. What the hell are you talking about?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” Deathstroke sounded far too amused as he closed the space between them, his fingers digging into M’s chin. “The great Midnighter, lost and confused like helpless child begging for mercy on his knees. And you must know what I do to helpless children.”

“Get your hands off me.” Midnighter growled, unintimidated by the show. He knew with absolute certainty that Deathstroke wasn’t going to go any further; he was just wasting time. Sure enough, Wilson released him in a show of exaggerated acquiescence before stepping away again. 

“As you wish.” The next time M ran into the mercenary, he was going to beat him bloody on sight. The man’s slow, mocking voice grated on all his nerves, filling him with anger that had nowhere to go. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. After all, you are the guest of honor.”

Before M could respond, the door slammed open and Nightwing stormed through, fury pouring off every inch of his body.

“Where is he?!” Nightwing shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

“Right on time, Grayson.”

Midnighter took in the terrified anger on Nightwing’s face and the satisfaction radiating off Deathstroke in waves and rage built in his chest. It didn’t take a supercomputer for a brain to know that he was the one Deathstroke had been waiting for.

“What the hell do you mean, right on time?!” M demanded.

Nightwing turned towards him, ignoring the question completely.

“M, are you okay?”

“He’s fine.” Deathstroke cut in before M could answer, crossing his arms over his chest and somehow managing to take up even more space than before. “Not that I can promise he'll stay that way once I deliver him to his old friends."

Nightwing’s chest hitched. M knew his boyfriend well enough to see him force the terror out of his lungs before squaring his shoulders and whirling around to face the mercenary.

“What do you want, Slade?”

M blinked, genuinely shocked. Since when was Dick on a first name basis with a killer like Deathstroke?

"I want lots of things Grayson. Money, power, beautiful women," Deathstroke cut off, tilting his head at Nightwing for emphasis. Whatever passed between them in that moment made Nightwing turn pale, one foot stepping back unconsciously. “But you didn’t come all this way just to ask me that, did you?”

Nightwing swallowed.

“What…” Dick’s voice broke suddenly and M frowned as he figured out what his boyfriend was about to say.

“Nightwing, stop!”

Nightwing looked back at him and his shoulders straightened, and all the while M cursed his need to be a hero. M was fine; Nightwing needed to get the hell out of here while he still could. But instead, Dick turned back at Deathstroke with newfound determination.

“What do I have to do to save him?”

Deathstroke looked down, considering Nightwing for a long moment before glancing back at M.

“Do you really care about him that much?” Deathstroke asked, looking M straight in the eye. M’s jaw dropped in outrage that only built as Wilson raised his hand towards the trembling hero.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Midnighter’s growl went ignored. Deathstroke reached out a single finger, dragging Nightwing closer by his uniform and Nightwing let him, watching in silent fear as Deathstroke raised his mask to reveal his own face. "You want me to let him go that badly?"

“Nightwing, don’t! Don’t listen to him, I’m fine!”

“Slade…” Nightwing whispered, a desperate, broken plea that made M struggle even harder. This was bad. This was beyond bad. Dick shouldn’t… Dick should not be here. Not for him, not if it meant the love of his life was caught in that psychopath’s terrifying orbit. But neither of them were listening; they only had eyes for Wilson’s twisted game. When Dick spoke, it was a prayer more than a murmur.

“…please.”

“Oh little bird,” Wilson’s hand came down to cup Nightwing’s chin, gently tilting his head up. “How I’ve missed hearing you beg.”

M watched in horror as Dick didn’t even try to pull away, holding perfectly still as the mercenary violated his space and relished every second of.

“Because I’m so generous, I’ll give a chance to prove how much you love him.”

“I… what?” Nightwing blinked.

Deathstroke swept his hand out, gesturing to where M was still completely restrained.

“You say he has your love, your heart, your devotion.” Deathstroke’s other hand tangled in Nightwing’s soft curls, but he still only needed his words to hold him in place. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me.” Deathstroke repeated, hunger burning in his eye. “And he’s free to go.”

“Nightwing, stop.” M said, fear rising in his chest. He wouldn’t. Dick wouldn’t, he would never… But Nightwing was squaring his shoulders, clenching his jaw with that unshakable resolve that M usually adored. And he was walking over, crossing the room like a man walking to the gallows. “Dick, don’t!”

He didn’t stop.

M yanked on the chains holding him immobile as hard as he could, cursing Deathstroke with all his might as Dick closed the distance between them. The look on his boyfriend’s face was horrifyingly, terribly blank and there was a coldness that didn’t belong on anyone with as much heart as Dick had.

“Don’t.” M breathed, knowing with dreadful and agonizing certainty that the chance to change his mind was slipping through his hands like grains of sand. But it wasn’t too late yet. Now that they were close enough for the heat from Dick’s breath to wash over M’s nose, Dick hesitated. The blankness slipped away and Dick’s face contorted with fear, his eyes desperately searching M’s face for comfort.

For a brief moment, M relaxed, a wave of relief crashing over him. Dick wouldn’t do that to him. Dick would never do that to him.

But then Dick raised his hands to cup M’s face, holding him like he’d disappear the instant he let go, and M knew… M knew exactly what was about to happen.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” Dick’s hand brushed over M’s cheek, the touch light as a feather. M shook in his bonds, his heart shattering in his chest. “It’s going to be okay; I promise.”

“Dick. Don’t. I swear to god, Dick don’t you dare!” M’s voice started soft but built to a frantic crescendo as Dick dropped to his knees in front of him. There was nothing M could do to stop him from reaching out and pulling at his belt, undoing the latch and tugging it away.

Dick reached for M’s pants, fingers slipping into the waistband of his boxers and M flinched violently, jerking away as the touch burned him. Dick flinched with him but that didn’t stop him from pulling his pants down just low enough to free his cock, and M wanted to scream because even when he was about to violate everything that had every been sacred between them, Dick was still trying to preserve M’s dignity instead of stripping him bare in front of their enemy.

Dick froze, staring down at M’s cock while M fought back a shiver. The room suddenly felt much, much colder.

“Don’t.” M begged him, praying to every deity he didn’t believe in that Dick would listen. “Please, Dick. You don’t have to do this, please.”

“He’s right.” Deathstroke mocked, and Dick shuddered. “You’re free to go. We’ll be just fine without you.”

“Dick, don’t—”

That was as far as M got before Dick went down on him, hands anchoring himself on his thighs as Dick took M’s cock into his mouth. M groaned as Dick’s clever tongue flicked around him, cock twitching while pleasure started to build in his chest.

“That’s it, boy. Show me how much you mean it.”

Dick shuddered, stilling at Deathstroke’s taunts before picking up the pace with newfound determination. He relaxed his jaw and moved in, taking M all the way down his throat until his face was pressed up against M’s crotch.

M couldn’t stop the moan that escaped him as the velvety heat of Dick’s throat moved across his cock, heat pooling in his chest from the deliciously tight muscles sliding around him no matter how hard he fought to keep it down. He didn’t want this. This was so far from okay and the fact that it felt so mind-blowingly good just made it all worse.

Dick’s head bobbed up and down as he found a rhythm and M’s fingers clawed at the cuffs around his wrists, fighting to hold himself together even though his cock was rock hard between Dick’s obscenely stretched lips.

M grunted, panting through clenched teeth as Dick worked him, drawing unwanted ecstasy out of him while Deathstroke watched them with a sadistic gleam in his eye. Just when M thought it couldn’t get any worse, Deathstroke stepped closer. His hands dropped to cup Nightwing’s ass and M could feel Dick fall still, somehow not gagging despite M’s cock hitting the back of his throat.

“Don’t stop on my account, little bird.” Deathstroke taunted. Slowly, Dick resumed his rhythm but there was less certainty behind it. More fear.

“Don’t you… dare.” M growled between gasping breaths, but Deathstroke sneered at him.

“Oh, I think I do dare.”

With that, he undid the clasp of Nightwing’s uniform and pulled his costume down, revealing his bare back. Nightwing shuddered, his grip on M’s thighs tightening like he was trying to hold himself steady as Deathstroke pulled him to his feet so he was bent in half, M’s cock wedged down his throat and his ass raised in an easy position for the mercenary to claim.

“Don’t touch him!” M snarled, fear and rage bursting out into one shout. Deathstroke’s eye locked onto him, lip curling in cruel amusement. Without breaking eye contact, Wilson reached down to pull out his own cock. M was furious to see that he was already rock hard, pre-come beading at the tip.

Dick trembled around M as Wilson stroked himself a few times before lining up at the entrance to Dick’s unprepared hole. M wished he could close his eyes, that he could somehow force himself to look away but he couldn’t. His couldn’t tear himself away from the tremors rocking Dick’s body as he tried to keep moving his head smoothly up and down M’s length, or the sadistic smirk on Deathstroke’s face.

Dick let out a choked sound, eyes screwing up in agony as Deathstroke slammed home. His jaw clenched but through sheer willpower, he managed not to bite down around M’s cock even as his fingernails dug into M’s legs hard enough to bleed. M shouted in rage and pulled at the chains again, fighting his bonds with all his might to put a stop to this despicable mess but there was nothing he could do.

Deathstroke set a new pace, fucking Dick roughly while he focused all his effort on not choking on M’s cock. M knew him well enough to read everything on Dick’s face; from every flinch and wince and choked whimper to the tears pricking at his eyes.

And he could see more than that. He saw the possibilities, how close Dick was to the edge, to passing out from the pain or choking himself to death on M’s cock or losing control and biting down so hard he’d rip M apart. It was terrifying and it filled him with a mixture of pride and rage; Dick’s control was legendary, his determination to see this through no matter what it cost him was no different.

Usually M loved this side of Dick; he was a hero through and through and as stubborn as they came, and M adored him for it. But this was so far past the line and M was never going to be able to look at him the same way, never going to be able to watch Dick set his shoulders in unwavering surety without thinking about Dick sinking to his knees, prepared to do whatever it took no matter what M wanted. And M was furious; for him, at him, at Deathstroke, at himself.

And as much as it killed him, as much as it gouged out a piece of his soul to watch Dick suffer for M’s safety, Dick had done this to himself. M told him not to, he’d shouted at him, begged him not to and Dick hadn’t listened.

Disgust curled around the pleasure building in his gut, tainting the waves of heat until M was nauseous from it. When he came, it was pleasure and heat forced into him, the world exploding into white hot rage that only made the climax more intense.

Tears of agony were dripping down Dick’s face by the time M could finally see straight. He looked ruined; wrecked by the cock tearing his ass apart with unfocused eyes and trembling limbs. M swallowed, trying to pull himself together enough to speak words of comfort, but in the post-climax haze, he couldn’t manage a sound.

It didn’t matter. It was only a few seconds before Deathstroke came with a growl, his grip gouging bruises into Dick’s skin as he emptied his seed into him. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling freely as the pain overwhelmed him, helpless to do anything but wait for Wilson to finish. After an eternity, Deathstroke grabbed Dick by the back of his neck, roughly yanking him off M’s cock. Dick heaved, choking to fight back his gag reflex at the brutal treatment, hanging lifelessly in Deathstroke’s grip.

“Well, I’m certainly convinced.” Wilson drawled, dragging a finger up Dick’s spine. Dick shuddered but held still as the mercenary pulled out. Even from his angle, M could see the cum dripping out of him was tainted with blood. “There’s a key under the middle panel. I trust you can see yourself out.”

Deathstroke pulled him closer, pressing his lips to Dick’s ear before whispering something that was far too quiet for M to make out. Then he dropped him, and M’s stomach fell through the floor when Dick didn’t move.

* * *

“Dick.” M’s voice was steady. Dick didn’t know how it possibly could be, but it was as calm and steady as ever. Even after everything Dick had just done to him. “Get up.”

It hurt. Everything hurt. The idea of pushing himself to his feet, to walking all the way to the other side of the room and back when he’d been ripped apart from the inside out was more than he could imagine.

But he had to. He had to get M out, he had to get him out of here or everything he’d just done was for nothing.

Heart pounding in his chest, every beat sending new waves of agony pulsing through him, Dick forced himself to his feet. He staggered across the room, heading for the panel and praying with his entire being that Slade had been telling the truth. Because if he’d lied… and Dick had done that for nothing…

But no.

There was the key, exactly where Slade said it would be. Dick grabbed it frantically, and somehow made it back to where M was restrained. His fingers shook as he tried to fit the key into the release, making a simple task next to impossible.

M’s eyes were locked onto him, but he still hadn’t made a sound. Dick made the mistake of meeting his eyes and he froze. A fresh wave of horror crashed over him at the look on M’s face; this was real.

Dick had just raped the man he loved.

He forced himself to look away, finally managing to force the key into the slot and there was a series of loud clicks as the cuffs released and Midnighter pulled himself free.

“I…” Dick started. But what was there to say when even the slightest motion towards him made M flinch and draw away.

They stared at each other, the embodiment of trauma staring itself in the face.

“Door.” M croaked and a Door appeared. Dick froze, no idea what M was going to do. M saw his hesitation and shuddered. “You first.”

Dick staggered through the portal, no idea what would be waiting on the other side. He found himself in his own apartment and nearly collapsed in relief. And from the agony burning him from the inside out.

M followed him through and the portal closed behind him. They stared at each other, M not moving and Dick swaying from the simple, impossible task of just staying on his feet.

“Are you hurt?” M asked, his voice clinical and detached. Dick swallowed back the hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation; M was the one who’d just been assaulted and Dick was the one he was worried about?

“No.” Dick lied, his throat hoarse. And yes, he was in pain and every second he spent on his feet made him want to scream, but he’d had worse.

Slade had done worse things to him before, once upon a time when a trigger and the nanoprobes had loomed over his head and taken away his right to say no.

“Okay.” M said. And turned to leave.

“M, wait.” Dick begged.

M froze, a tremor running up his spine. Dick knew that look, knew that M had closed his eyes and twisted his fingers together before breathing out in perfect, slow control.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” M said without turning back.

“I know.” Dick whispered through the haze of pain, his legs shaking so badly it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen yet. “I… I’m so—"

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry!” M thundered, whirling on him so fast it made his head spin and Dick shrank in on himself, forcing down a whimper when the motion sent pain ripping up his spine and set off everything else with it. “You think that’s enough? When I—”

M cut himself off with a sharp breath, hands shaking as he pulled them into fists. When he spoke, his voice was nothing but rawness and pain and jagged edges that was made all the more unbearable by how quiet it was.

“How could you?”

“I…” Dick started, but his voice died in his throat. There was nothing he could say for himself.

He stared at the ground. M couldn’t look at him either.

"I don't want to see you again." M stated like an indisputable fact. "Not now, not ever. We're done. We're done."

Dick closed his eyes, a tear dripping down his face before the dam broke and he collapsed into a sobbing wreck on the floor. He heard footsteps before his front door opened and slammed shut, the walls shaking from the force of it.

Dick sobbed, burying his head in his arms until the tears dried out and all that remained was numb emptiness.

He should get up. He should get up and drag himself into the shower, wash away the evidence of what Slade did and patch himself up to make sure his ribs weren’t cracked. He should pick up the phone and call someone, call anyone to come stay with him, to make sure he wasn’t alone to do something he’d regret.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. What would he say to them? The truth?

The truth was, Dick raped the man he was in love with. He was a monster; nothing more than the other perverts and scum his family specialized in taking down. How was Dick going to look any of them in the face after this?

How was he going to face himself?

 _“When he throws you aside, you know where to find me.”_ Slade’s whisper echoed in his head. _“You knew this wouldn’t last. You’re too broken for that. You’ll never be worth him until you fix yourself.”_

What was he thinking? He couldn’t go back to Slade, that was insane.

But where else could he go?

Dick was a rapist. He assaulted M.

And Slade knew what was wrong with him, he always knew what to say to pull Dick apart to his core.

Slade made this mess, but maybe he was the only one who could fix it. Who could fix… Dick. And he was the only one who wouldn’t kick Dick out, wouldn’t throw everything Dick had done right back in his face.

Or he could stay here, at his apartment that was filled with M’s things, lie down in the bed that he and M shared, press his face into the pillows that smelled like M, and sleep alone in an empty bed, just him and the weight of his sins.

The thought made Dick sick. Being alone right now… being alone…

That was what he deserved. That was the least of what he deserved. Dick was a monster and he was sick and he was broken and he needed… he needed to be punished. He needed to go somewhere that he couldn’t hurt anyone, somewhere that someone could fix him.

Dick somehow pulled himself to his feet, swallowing the fear in his throat as he wiped his eyes and balled his hands into fists. He breathed out, exhaling all the doubt as he headed for his phone, still lying innocently on the bedside table, his mind made up. The phone rang, and a very small voice in his head screamed at Dick to hang up, to man up and put one foot in front of the other and unravel this mess on his own. Or better, to call his friends, ask them for help and let them take care of him.

But he didn’t deserve that. He couldn’t do that to them, to any of them. This was the best option—

No.

This was the only option.

**Author's Note:**

> Due to unforeseen events that I should have foreseen, I've fallen behind a little behind, but fear not, I have some truly great stuff planned for Whumptober. Subscribe to this series if you're exciting to see what terrible things befall Dick next, because I promise you, there are many. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
